Raven Doll
by Leyenda
Summary: AU. Saint Dane/Nevva. As a low-ranking titled worker at one of the biggest companies in the world, how could Nevva Winter possibly get herself known? Nevva quickly learns of a shady part of her company and that money doesn't always equal happiness.
1. The Heart

**Raven Doll  
**_By: Platinum Hero_  
**  
Chapter 1: The Heart**

Nevva Winter sneered as she fumbled through her purse trying to find her keys that were apparently lost. She glanced quickly at the locked door to her office and then continued digging through her purse. She cursed softly when she couldn't find the keys after a few minutes. Nevva was not very patient on Mondays, and her patience level was dropping fast.

Nevva smirked a little and mentally scolded herself when she checked her pocket, and fortunately found her keys. She hastily entered the door to her workplace - the Ravinia company - and walked faster than usual, seeing as she was late. Nevva nervously checked her watch again and bit her lower lip, speeding up. Today was not going well at all, and she was behind schedule on a seemingly busy workday. Nevva weaved through other workers, who didn't seem to be in as much of a hurry as she was, trying to reach her destination before her boss noticed her absence.

_I hate Mondays,_ Nevva growled to herself while making a sharp turn into her cubical and carelessly tossing her black leather purse onto her desk. Nevva quickly sat down at her desk and looked blankly at her computer. She made a face when she noticed a bright blue, fish-shaped note stuck to her monitor, which read: You're late again. Indeed, Nevva was late. She sighed heavily.

"You know," Nevva heard from the entrance of her cubical. "Saint Dane's going to be mad at you for this one."

Nevva turned to see Vo Spader, a fellow employee, casually leaning on the side of her cubical entrance, lazily playing with a loose stand of his long, messy black hair. "You're one to talk," Nevva snapped rather bluntly back at him. "Oh, and don't be coming into _my _cubical again to leave childish notices. I realize that I'm late."

Spader merely chuckled and shrugged, while walking away. Nevva sighed and silently wished for an office with a door. Possible on with a working lock to keep out unwanted co-workers. Shrugging off this thought, Nevva hesitantly turned on her computer monitor to check her email, a vital part of her job at Ravinia Company. Right now, Nevva mostly answered clients' questions through email and phone calls. She was aiming to become a receptionist for her boss, Saint Dane. It wasn't a secret that Nevva wanted that job more than anything, and was often one of the hottest gossip topic in the office. Nevva knew this too, and she knew that Saint Dane knew of her longing.

Saint Dane was somewhat of shady figure to his clients. To the people who knew him, Saint Dane was a bit cocky and did rebellious things just for the fun of it. You could almost say he was arrogant. Of course, this was top secret material, and if Saint Dane found out, he wouldn't be very pleased, and people would be fired. No one ever bad-mouthed Saint Dane. He was in the most powerful position in the company, which was one of the most powerful companies.

_It's kind of like world domination, and Saint Dane's aiming to be the high ruler,_ Nevva thought to herself while the corners of her mouth tugged upward, obviously amused by the ridiculous parallel she just made. Although, the parallel she made could actually be very relevant to the current state of the company. Nevva checked to see if she had any emails.

_**To: Nevva Winter: "nwinter(a)raviniaco.pen"  
From: Patrick Mac: "pmac(a)raviniaco.pen"  
Subject: Meeting**_

_I just wanted to remind you of the meeting we have today at 10:30. It's in the biggest conference room in the left wing._

_-Patrick_

Nevva growled impatiently to herself. Naturally, it completely passed her mind that there was a meeting today. If she didn't attend, the would harm her chances of getting the promotion she wanted so badly. Nevva quickly pulled her thin, blond hair into a messy bun and grabbed a small notebook and pen that she kept at her desk. It was almost 10:30.

Once Nevva arrived to the left wing, she prayed to herself that this room indeed was the right conference room and slowly opened the door. When she peeked in, all eyes were on her, so she slipped inside and immediately looked to the head of the table, which was empty. Nevva let out a sigh of relief and smiled at the people who were still looking at her. There were about eight people or so in the conference room, and she found an empty seat next to Patrick.

"Thanks for that," Nevva whispered.

"Anytime," Patrick softly replied without bothering to turn towards her. He looked tired.

Nevva quietly adjusted herself by pulling her seat closer to the table and straitening out her work pants. She set her notebook and pen down on the table - symmetrical, of course - and folded her arms respectively, waiting for Saint Dane. Nevva knew that he would come in perceptively when the clocks turned to 10:30 sharp. Saint Dane liked to keep you intensely waiting, and he sure knew how to make an entrance. Nevva smirked to herself and looked at her watch - 10:29 and 55 seconds.

Almost on cue, Saint Dane busted though the conference door and had on a face that obviously meant business - as he usually did when working. Nevva and a few other people, excluding tired Patrick, sat up straighter and cleared their throats'. Saint Dane was a bit young for the typical label of 'office tyrant'. He had very long, purposely dyed white hair that was now slicked back into a neat ponytail, with a few loose strands hanging at the rims of his face. He had sharp features and blazing eyes, which always seemed to work in persuasions or punishments. A glare from Saint Dane could make any grown man squirm.

Saint Dane wore his usual black suit that looked slightly authentic and very expensive. Saint Dane liked expensive. After walking diligently to the head of the table, he dropped a large binder on the table, making more noise then necessary. Nobody dared to say anything, of course. The people in the conference room waited quietly for Saint Dane to begin speaking, as Saint Dane scanned his audience with his cold eyes.

After seeing that everyone was present, Saint Dane seemed satisfied and began to speak. "For many years, my company - _our_ company, - has been growing. At first, it lingered up in the charts, as most companies do. Naturally, as the company grew, it got bigger, and bigger, an kept growing faster and faster. Why is this? The reason is you - they employees. You're the heart of the company, you mean everything. You fix all the flaws and keep it growing. Not myself - I'm simply just there to help guide the company; the veins of the company." Saint Dane paused to stand up, and walked over to the side of the conference room. All eyes followed him."

"So, why I want to know, is this happening?" Saint Dane said in a bitterly disgusted voice. On cue from his speech, he rather roughly pulled down the hook by the room's blackboard to reveal a line graph. Saint Dane frowned at his small audience and let the graph sink in. After a while, he took the pointer from the rim of the blackboard and cracked it loudly against the graph, causing a few people to flinch. Saint Dane liked it when people flinched - it made him feel powerful.

Continuing, Saint Dane led the pointer along the somewhat vertical line on the graph. "You see this, this is good and this is how it _should be_." Saint Dane frowned deeply and then snapped the pointer on a line that was slowly going down towards the end of the graph. "What's this? The blood isn't being pumped, so the body is dying. The _employees_ are slacking, therefore the company is_ dying_." Saint Dane paused dramatically and glared at his audience. Nevva intentionally averted her eyes in shame. Saint Dane always seemed to make her feel so guilty during his meetings. Meetings at Ravinia Company usually were not very pleasant.

"I would just like to know the answer to the simple question: why?" When nobody answered Saint Dane's ironically rhetorical question, he continued with a frown, going back to stand by his seat. He leaned onto the table while resting both of his hands on it. Trying to avoid his dangerous gaze, I noticed that it was sunny outside.

"You see," he continued. "Nobody can answer that. This means I have to take action, and fast. Already narrowing my limited options, I have no other choice but to start firing the slackers. I'll give everyone one more chance, because I'm a generous guy, but if things don't go outstandingly this upcoming mouth, I will have no other choice but to eliminate the problem." With that bitter note, Saint Dane rather abruptly ended the meeting be roughly grabbing his binder and storming out of the conference room, looking rather disgusted. Nobody in the room made any movements - they were all moved by Saint Dane's powerful lecture.

Nevva was the first one to slowly stand up and take her still-empty notebook and silently exit the room. Patrick and a newer employee named Aja, left right after her. Nobody spoke, but Patrick gave Nevva a grim look and wave once he got to his row. Nevva nodded, feeling kind of sick.

She didn't want Saint Dane to be mad at her and she felt as if this meeting was partly because of her. Nevva would admit, she had been guilty of being late recently. She had also been slightly monotonous during her phone calls and typical in her emails. Nevva frowned and bit her lip, feeling bad, rather than irritated like before the meeting. She would never get a promotion at this rate.

Sighing softly, Nevva decided that she would work her hardest this upcoming month and do extra work. No slacking, no free time. Determined to follow through, Nevva hastily pulled out a drawer in her file cabinet, containing record of people who called and what they said.

"Miss Winter?" she heard a deep voice ask quietly all of a sudden. Nevva was slightly startled when she noticed that she had been working without interruption for some time now.

"Yes-" Nevva cut herself off when she noticed that the speaker was Saint Dane himself. Trying to hide her flush of embarrassment for not showing proper respect, Nevva clumsily stood up and said almost too quickly, "Sir! What can I do for you?" A feeling tugged at the bottom of Nevva's heart: she was going to be fired now. She looked down.

Saint Dane looked slightly amused by Nevva's reaction. "I'm not going to fire you, Miss Winter," he said, as if reading her mind. Nevva's eyes widened slightly as she lifted her head to look curiously at her boss.

"I just wanted to say that you've been doing an _exceptionally_ good job recently," Saint Dane said almost coaxingly while concentrating on nothing in particular. "The meeting before really didn't apply to you - I just needed to say that to everyone working here. I am noticing your exceptional work, Miss Winter."

Nevva tried to avoid looking at her boss, but she beamed, almost speechless. "T-thank you, sir."

"Thank_ you_, Miss Winter," Saint Dane replied, while walking away from her cubical. Nevva tried hard not to scream with happiness at the conversation she just had with her boss. They had never had a direct conversation before, and she felt a couple steps closer to her much-awaited promotion. Nevva could feel herself blush a bit.

_**Author's Note:**_ _What a strange to-be pairing, you might say. Nevva/Saint Dane? It seems perfectly logical to me. I absolutely love alternate universe stories set in a big company setting, too. This has been fun to write so far. Feel free to review and critique me. English is not my first language, so I would appreciate grammar corrections. Thank you._


	2. Secrecy

**Raven Doll**_  
By: Platinum Hero_

She walks in Beauty, like the night  
Of cloudness climes and starry skies,  
And all that's the best of dark and bright,  
Meet in her aspect and her eyes..._  
- Lord Byron_

**Chapter 2: Secrecy**

_Clack, clack, clack, clack. _A slightly stocky, middle aged man made his way down the sidewalk, glancing behind his back often enough so that it seemed like a normal thing to do. He knew he was being followed. The man pretended to be oblivious. He knew that it was someone working for Ravinia Co.; who else would it be? The man glanced at his watch and then behind him again, casually turning at the block.

Sure enough, his follower was from Ravinia. He grabbed the hand of the dark-skinned woman beside him and gave it a sharp squeeze. The woman looked into his eyes curiously and then nervously looked back, but was stopped by the man.

"Osa, we have to loose him," the man whispered. Osa vaguely nodded and they kept walking. Press, the man, tried to get his mind off of the situation by looking at the passing scenery. It was a slightly cloudy day with a slight chill to the air. Just the way Press liked it. Osa seemed to be a little uncomfortable with the weather, as if it was too cold for her.

Press looked back again and his pursuer quickly turned his head. At that moment, Press hastily grabbed Osa's hand and darted into the slightly busy street. If there was one thing Press knew about getting somebody to stop following you, it was to be completely unpredictable. Osa yelped a little from the sudden pull but Press kept a firm grip on her hand.

Angry drivers beeped their horns and yelled at them while squealing to an abrupt stop, but Press ignored them and concentrated on running and swerving unpredictably. He managed to steal a glance behind him, and his pursuer looked slightly surprised, while fumbling to keep up with them. Press smirked a little and let go of Osa's hand. Osa swiftly continued to run with him.

Turning his head was a bad idea. A speeding driver blared his horn directly to the side of him and Press' eyes widened as he dived out of the way. He could see the driver cringe his eyes shut as it collided with another car on the other lane of the rode. Press closed his eyes and the horrible crashing sound. He remorsefully knew that there was no time to sulk about it now, so he got up and ran into the street again. Press could faintly hear people yelling as he got to Osa, who looked shocked. She might have said something, but Press didn't hear.

Although middle aged, Press didn't even break a sweat when he got to the other side of the road. He nervously looked back at the crash, which thankfully wasn't _horribly_ devastating. Without any more hesitation, he ran, knowing _exactly_ where he was going.

* * *

Nevva Winter yawned and shot her tired eyes to the clock on her cubicle's wall. It was almost 11 o'clock, which meant that she had a lot of work to do. She had worked hard that day, motivated by the promotion that she would surely receive. Nevva smiled at the thought of getting direct orders from Saint Dane, having her own office, getting a lunch break whenever she wanted -

Nevva then heard a loud and deliberate, probably not the first, cough. She turned around and saw Patrick, with a frown plastered to his seemingly flawless face.

"Can I talk to you?"

"You already are."

Patrick didn't look amused, so Nevva stayed quiet. She noticed that Patrick looked more nervous than normal, like he knew something that he wasn't supposed to know.

"Well?" Nevva prodded.

Patrick looked around awkwardly. "Do you want to take an early lunch break?" The look in his eyes was almost frightening.

Nevva stared at him for a few seconds and then slowly nodded, wondering what had shaken him so much. Patrick tended to get nervous over the smallest things, but this time, it just seemed different. Nevva grabbed her purse and wrote a small note saying that she was going out for lunch.

Patrick seemed to be in a huge hurry to get out of the building, while ignoring his fellow employees and taking abnormally large strides. Nevva was slightly irritated by his behavior, but followed him anyway. She knew that it must be something important. _It better be important._

When the two arrived in the gigantic parking lot, Nevva started heading towards her shiny, new, blue and silver Corvette, but was stopped by Patrick's hand. "We're taking my car, okay?" he said almost too quietly for her to hear.

Nevva raised an eyebrow, but obeyed, looking regretful in the direction of her own car. "Why can't we just take my car?"

"No," Patrick said almost immediately, startling Nevva. She had never seen Patrick so straight-forward. He was acting very strange.

"Hey, are you okay...? Is something bothering you?" Nevva started to ask awkwardly. Patrick didn't reply. "You're acting really strange."

Patrick pulled out his car keys from his back pocket and pressed the unlock button to his moderately new silver Mustang. When Patrick got in and started the ignition, Nevva assumed that she could get in the passenger seat. Knowing that Patrick could probably be a bad driver when he was acting this strange, Nevva buckled her seatbelt, which was rare for her. Patrick didn't even look at his seatbelt and started to drive off.

Nevva would normally laugh at how the interior of Patrick's car matched his personality, but it didn't seem like a good time to laugh. When Patrick didn't talk, Nevva shifted uncomfortably and set her beige purse on the floor.

"So..." Nevva started, breaking the silence, "Where are we going?"

"Do you have a cell phone on you?" Patrick suddenly asked, ignoring Nevva's question.

"I think so," Nevva said with slight suspicion. Patrick was acting weird, indeed. Patrick seemed to narrow his eyes slightly at her answer.

"Can you turn it off?" he asked, more of a demand. Nevva had had enough of Patrick's shadiness, though.

"Not until you tell me what in the world is going on," Nevva said stubbornly while shifting her piercing eyes into his. Patrick visibly cringed at this, and seemed to be trying to collect enough calmness to speak.

"Look..." Patrick said with a small sigh. He paused, probably thinking of how to word whatever he was going to say. Suddenly, Patrick slowed the car, noticing that there was a huge traffic jam. Patrick opened his mouth to speak again, when Nevva's phone started playing a loud tune.

Nevva looked at Patrick questioningly while she grabbed her purse from the floor and fumbled for her phone. Patrick surprisingly didn't stop her, looking slightly relived.

"Hello?" she said politely into her phone. Patrick seemed curious but kept his eyes glued to the road.

_Where are you? _The voice on the other line said. Nevva almost dropped her phone in mere surprise. Saint Dane was calling her.

"I'm taking an early lunch break, is that okay?" Nevva asked, trying to contain her surprise.

Saint Dane breathed into the line. _Where exactly are you?_

Nevva looked at Patrick who looked back at her. "I'm in Patrick's car." Patrick pursed his lips slightly and looked at the road ahead of him again.

_Patrick... Mac?_ Saint Dane stated, slightly surprised. _Well, that doesn't matter. What I meant was, what street are you on?_

Nevva glance out her window and without hesitation, told Saint Dane the name of the street. There was a extremely long pause on the line, and Nevva shifted in her seat.

_Careful, I hear there's a wreck on that street._ Saint Dane suddenly stated bitterly while then hanging up. Nevva sat still with the phone still to her ear. Why was everyone acting so strange, especially her boss?

"Who was that?" Patrick asked.

"Saint Dane," Nevva replied.

Patrick coughed a little. Nevva looked at him strangely with a small glare. There was another awkward pause after this. Nevva looked out the window, and noticed the source of the the traffic. Saint Dane was correct, there was a car accident.

"Nevva," Patrick started slowly, "That's actually what I want to talk to you about."

Nevva actually was quite surprised. She tore her gaze from the window. "Saint Dane?" Nevva asked.

"Yes," Patrick replied, almost darkly. It was very unlike him. "What did he ask you on the phone just now?"

Nevva gave Patrick a confused look. "He asked me what street we were on."

"And?"

"He told me there was a wreck on this street and hung up," Nevva said while pointing back to the accident. Patrick didn't look happy. "What do you have against him, Patrick?"

"I didn't say I had anything against him," Patrick replied simply.

"Patrick," Nevva said sharply, "Obviously, you have a problem with Saint Dane. Any person can read you like a book."

Patrick didn't smile at the over-used correlation. He knew that it was true and it was no use hiding it. "I'll tell you when we get there."

"Where?"

"Lunch," Patrick said vaguely. Nevva was starting to get very mad at Patrick's secrecy. She glared at Patrick. "We're going to the coffee shop on this street."

"Thank you," Nevva spat bitterly, sounding sort of like Saint Dane.

_**Author's Note:** The plot slowly thickens. This took me quite a while to write even though it's a very short piece because I have almost no inspiration or motivation to write this. Not to mention time. I try, though._


End file.
